More Than Bent On Getting By
by Lady-of-the-Refrigerator
Summary: When Jarod breaks, Miss Parker tries to pick up the pieces.


**Title**: more than bent on getting by  
**Author**: Lady_of_the_Refrigerator  
**Summary**: When Jarod breaks, Miss Parker tries to pick up the pieces.  
**Fandom**: The Pretender  
**Characters/pairings**: Miss Parker/Jarod friendship  
**Rating**: T/PG-13  
**Word count**: 1110  
**Warnings**: Mentions of suicide, character death.  
**Author's Notes**: Takes place about ten years after Island of the Haunted. Written for girlsavesboyfic on lj.

* * *

Tonight was the night. It had to be tonight. Everything was in place, everything she needed was ready. Well, almost everything.

He was lying on the cot with his face to the wall, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. Not now. He slept too much these days, yes, but he was too still, too tense to be asleep. He could feel someone watching.

She pulled the door open and stepped inside. His back tensed even more.

The others, they'd given up on him weeks ago. The sweepers had found him on a bridge, staring into the river beneath it. He didn't run, didn't argue, didn't fight. He just sat there with his legs dangling over the edge and stared. He went with them without a fuss.

He'd been back at the Centre for three months and no matter what they tried—threats, torture, re-education, bribery, persuasion—nothing they did made any difference. It wasn't that he wouldn't cooperate. He tried going through the motions, but he just... couldn't pretend anymore. Something happened, something traumatic, they were sure of it. He wouldn't say what it was.

They tried for so long to capture their cash-cow Pretender and when they finally succeeded, he was too damaged to be of any use. They kept him there now only because of what he knew. They didn't even bother with surveillance. He could have walked right out the door without much of a fight from them, if he wanted to.

But that was the problem. He _didn't_ want to. He had given up. She needed to know why.

"They say you won't talk anymore."

"Miss Parker." His voice was rough, but his surprise was still obvious. He hadn't seen her since they brought him in. Maybe he thought she'd gone. Like Broots. Like Sydney. As if she could leave that easily, letting loose ends dangle in the breeze. He struggled to sit up and face her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," she said. He looked like... like they said he looked. Broken. Defeated. Haunted. The spark of mischief she was so used to seeing in his eyes was missing. His hair was starting to go gray. "Just... just to see you." She was uncomfortably aware how familiar it was, visiting him like this. But it hadn't been him the last time. Not really. Her inner sense had been silent for years, but when she made the mental comparison, the voices started whispering.

She crossed the small room cautiously and sat down next to him on the cot. His pain was palpable up close. It radiated from him. Her heart ached and she looked away before he could see the tears forming in her eyes.

They sat together for a while before she trusted her voice enough to speak.

"Why?"

His brow furrowed. "Why what?"

"They said you didn't even fight them. Were you tired of running, or—"

"He's dead," he interrupted.

"Who? Your father?" Lord knows she understood the pain of losing a parent, but even so...

_Life goes on_, her father had said. No matter the loss, it was always true for Jarod. At least, the Jarod she knew before.

"No. Jeremy. Gemini. My... brother." It sounded like he'd been holding it in, waiting for the right moment, for a sympathetic ear. She knew he was in trouble if she qualified for _that_ job.

The whispers intensified. "Did the Centre...?"

"No. No." His voice was hollow. "It was suicide."

A chill ran through her body. "Are—Are you...?"

"Sure? Yes. There were signs. He... he left a note. He killed himself," he said. "He killed himself, and he was... _me_. Miss Parker, I don't know how to deal with this."

Whatever scrap of her heart that wasn't already broken from seeing him so lost shattered at that moment. "Jarod—"

"He was so young, so full of potential, and he didn't make it. What chance do I have?"

_You'll have a better chance than he did, if I have anything to say about it._ "Sitting in a cell and staring at a wall certainly isn't helping anything."

"Miss Parker_,_ _please._"

"No, Jarod. I know it's horrible. I know how easy it is to lose hope, to blame yourself. But that boy spent the first fourteen years of his life in solitary confinement with Dr. Freakshow poking around in his head, filling it with lies about the world. That's not something most people can overcome.

"He _wasn't_ you. He didn't have the foundation you had. He didn't have Sydney's guidance and kindness to fall back on. He didn't have—"

"You. He didn't have you," Jarod interrupted. "He didn't have a friend." He took her hand in his. Ten years ago, she would have pulled away. Ten years ago was a different lifetime.

"I don't think I would count myself as a _positive_ influence," she said.

"I would. More than you can imagine." He squeezed her hand. "I missed you."

_That's not my fault. You're the one who left. You left me here_, she thought, but she couldn't hold it against him. Not now. "You disappeared."

"I know. I'm sorry." He paused for a moment. "Why did you come, Miss Parker? The truth."

"Jarod... You don't really want to be here, do you?"

"I don't think it really matters anymore."

"Of _course_ it matters. Look, I've seen a lot of crap in my life. The world can be awful, unfair, full of misery and pain and injustice. But in the past few years I've realized that the world is a better place when you're a part of it. And if I can finally admit that to myself..."

She pulled him to his feet. "Come on." This was it. Now or never. She pushed the door to his cell open and poked her head out.

"Miss Parker, what are you doing?"

"Getting you out of here. For good." He looked dubious. "Jarod, you should know by now that you can't save everyone. Throwing your life away isn't going to bring him back, and I'm sure as hell not going to sit and watch you do it.

"I need to do something constructive for a change. Make up for a little of the damage _I've_ done. Please. Come with me."

He reached out and took her hand again firmly. She could see the boy she once knew returning, a bit at a time. He even had a ghost of a smile. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try one last time."

"Good. Now let's blow this Popsicle stand from Hell."


End file.
